


The Hill-Fort

by writingandcoe



Series: The Swindon Files [3]
Category: The Dresden Files - All Media Types, The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher, The Dresden Files Roleplaying Game
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dresden Files Fusion, Dresden Files Style Sidhe, Eventual Romance, F/M, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 08:31:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13947771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingandcoe/pseuds/writingandcoe
Summary: Dini Richardson was a small-town journalist in Swindon, covering petty crimes and road rage - until she got herself mixed up in the supernatural world and fought a bunch of Red Court vampires. Now, she's investigating more cases...And the supernatural world is taking an interest in her. Specifically, the Knight of the Summer Court. And he wants a date...Set in an alt universe of the Dresden Files, a timeline and an ocean away from Chicago.





	1. An Unexpected Message

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, it's Mary-Sue ish for Dini...but trust me, there is a reason for this character arc. And it's cute. I do have a soft spot for Warren, for all his reserve and careful language.

For once, I'm in the office. It's pretty quiet; most of my colleagues are out on various errands (well, one's got a date, one's covering a court case, and the other's gone for coffee - they're claiming errands) and Laura's shut herself in her office to concentrate on something that I suspect might be which pair of shoes she wants for a party next week. I've got the fruits of a hacking raid on Everyman's computer to look through, and I'm halfway through a report on an attempted burglary at the Mechanics' Institute when my phone buzzes. It's a text from Tony.

'Someone called Warren trying to find you. Response?'

What the hell is he doing trying to find me? Warren is the Summer Knight of the Faerie Court. I have to take a moment to calm my heartbeat down, and then text, 'Official meeting? Information?'

'Personal.'

Personal? I stare at my phone. It's sounding a lot like the Knight of the Summer Court is asking me on a date...which, actually, I really should have expected.

I consider it for a while. I'm not dating anyone else...hell, I'm not really interested in anyone else. My journalist friend Scott D'Arcy is an occasional fuck-buddy but that's it, and we both have a healthy work rivalry that means we would never get on as anything more than that. I have to admit I like the human Warren - he's attractive and friendly, although the whole Summer Court thing does complicate matters. But there isn't anyone else that I've met recently who I could spend an hour on a cold bench in Lydiard with, talking about how I got my nickname.

And then I mentally shrug. What the hell, why not live life on the edge for a while? 'Neutral territory. Name a day and time.'

It's a few minutes before Tony comes back. '2pm today?'

I glance at the clock. It's 11am, so that gives me time to finish reading my current report and then go to interview someone, and most importantly doesn't give me time to worry about what to wear. 'Sure.'

*

It's a few minutes past two before I get to the door of the Sir Daniel Arms, thanks to my very talkative interviewee. I glance around as I step in – the usual mix of afternoon suspects, including someone I know to be a Red Court Vampire in one corner – and Warren, sitting at one of the corner tables and looking out of the window at the street.

He spots me almost immediately, and rises to his feet as I approach the table. He's in jeans and a white shirt today, which make him look more human but don't do anything to dull his attractiveness.

"Sir Knight." I incline my head formally.

"Not today, Miss Richardson." He gives me a half-bow. "I am here of my own will."

I leave the questions on that for the moment. "I'm going to get a drink. What do you want?"

"I am happy to-"

I hold up a hand to forestall him, and smile to take the sting out of my words. "I'll buy this round. You buy the next. What do you want?"

He hesitates, and then smiles, and sits back down. "An ale of some sort, if you please."

"Faerie?" Jay murmurs to me as he takes my order.

"Summer Knight. How did you know?"

"He hasn't got a coat, and it's cold outside." Jay says dryly. "Assignment?"

I shrug. "I'm not sure." That gets a longer look from the nosy barman – although he gives me a lot of my information, so I can't really complain. I relent. "It's starting to look like a date."

Jay sets the two pints of ale on the bar in front of me. "Unusual."

"No advice today?"

Jay shrugs. "You know more about Faeries than I do."

"I'm not sure about that." I mutter, and take the glasses back to the table.

Warren inclines his head to me in thanks as I slide the glass in front of him, and I shrug off my jacket and sit down opposite. It's pretty much the first time I've had a chance to look at him properly, and I indulge my nosy instincts for a few moments. Slightly messy brown hair, green eyes...his high cheekbones almost make his cheeks look hollow, and his thin-lipped, wide mouth turns up slightly at the corners, speaking of hidden laughter. There are lines at the corners of his eyes; no grey touching his hair, but something in the green depths of his eyes that speaks of age. He's got broad shoulders and long, thick fingers that are curling around the pint glass in front of him.

"Thank you for meeting with me." he says, studying me as frankly as I am studying him, although he won't meet my eyes for longer than a moment...as soon as they meet for an instant, he flicks his gaze away. I can't work out if it's nervousness - or shyness - or something else.

"That's ok." I hesitate, and then decide there's no way I can put things diplomatically. "What do you want?"

The faint flush touches his cheeks, beginning to highlight his cheekbones. "To meet with you. That is all."

"For personal business? Not Court business?"

"Indeed."

"I thought you were never off duty."

"I am, sometimes. I have," he smiles at me, "an afternoon off. And I would like to spend it with you, if you will allow me."

"You're the Knight of the Summer Court of Faerie." I say slowly, trying to process this. "You have an afternoon off. And you want to spend it with a mortal journalist."

"Yes."

I'm silent for a few seconds, and then manage to say, "Why?"

"Because I enjoyed your company on previous occasions."

I hesitate. Half of me is bowled over – I mean, he's attractive, and very polite, and from what I've seen incredibly nice, and he wants to spend an afternoon with me? But the other half – the cynical, journalistic half; the part that's always watching and questioning and probing – is kicking me. He's the Summer Knight. Fae don't get to go off-duty.

"I don't trust you." I say eventually.

His lips press together, and then he nods. "That is understandable. You have spent a lot of time around the Winter Court, by your own account. The Summer Court is less devious, but still manipulative. You are right to be wary."

I suppress a shiver. "I'm not even sure what I can talk to you about. If I tell you something, it means that the Summer Court knows it. They already have one of my Names. I can't give them any more control over me."

He looks down into his ale, and then up again. "I understand. And I in turn cannot tell you much...my Fae nature is always with me, and I must have a bargain for a bargain."

I lean back. It's going to be a fun date if we can't talk about anything-

-well, no. We can't talk about work, or our pasts. But I'm wondering..."You said you hadn't lived here for a long time. Do you visit often?"

He shakes his head. "Not very frequently. My duties at the Court fill much of my time, and I find that I have suddenly missed time in this world."

"Do you like films? Books? Plays? What did you used to do?"

"The Summer Court loves plays, and we often get the companies to visit us." he says thoughtfully. "I still read a lot. And I like films, but I have not seen many in recent years."

"Then I have a suggestion for you. Would you like to go and see a film?"

He relaxes and smiles, looking more human than I've previously seen. "That sounds an excellent plan, Miss Richardson."

"And if we want to talk past, it's a story for a story."

He nods. "I agree." And then he eyes me with something approaching amusement. "I do suggest that we do not discuss our respective work, as I think that you are as off-duty as myself."

I can't help but smile. He's right, I'm never off-duty from being a nosy journalist. "True. All right, we don't talk work. Deal?"

He holds out a hand, and I shake it. His skin is warm and slightly rough - I'm guessing from fighting, but I think that counts as work talk. "So what film do you recommend?" he asks.

*

So after several pints of ale and a rather broken conversation - we're still working out what we can and can't talk about - at the Sir Daniel Arms, I spend the afternoon at the cinema with the Summer Knight watching something action-y, and then we go to get a milkshake at Ed's Diner in the Outlet Centre. The film gives us something to start talking about, and then we both relax; we get onto books – he's read some really strange German literature – and then onto hobbies. It feels very surreal to be sitting in one of the leather-covered booths, leaning my elbows on the plastic table and talking about modern literature with this half-Fae, half-human, rather handsome man...but the conversation seems to dance from the serious to the ridiculous with ease, and I've managed to get several of those wonderful rich laughs out of him. I can almost see him relaxing and becoming human again. I'm forced to admit to myself that he's good company; although I'm an excellent conversationalist - considering my profession - it's rare that I'll relax with someone as quickly as this.

We get burgers and chips there when we both remember that we're hungry, and then spend another hour talking about the progression of film and the latest updates in 3D technology. Eventually, I glance at my watch. "You said afternoon, and it's now gone nine. When's your curfew?"

"I am not required back at my Lady's side until dawn." Warren says.

I can feel a wicked smile creeping across my lips. "Oh, so I can have you for the night?"

A flush spreads across his cheeks, deepening by the second, but he smiles back at me. "If you wish."

I hesitate, and then force the words out. "If you come back to my house-"

He takes my hand. "I will be a guest in your home. I cannot take anything from you, nor hurt you in any way."

It's my turn to flush. "I'm sorry. I'm so used to being a guest in someone else's place that I forget I can have rights too."

He's still got my hand, and his smile deepens. "You do not take many back to your home?"

"You'd be the first in a long time." I take my hand back and wave to the server for the bill. When it comes, I put my hand over it an instant before Warren does. "Please?"

He hesitates, laughs, and removes his hand from over mine. "I would not usually permit this, but I admit my morals and expectations are being challenged at the present moment."

"It's good for you." I tell him dryly, and pay.

*

It's about a half-hour walk from the Outlet Center to my house in Avening Street. Warren formally offers me his arm as we leave the Center, but the streets are too annoying to be able to stay like that for long, and we end up walking side-by-side, discussing the variations of food that have appeared in the last few decades. Warren's come across pizza, of course, but hasn't experienced much spicy food. His face splits in a huge smile when I offer to take him to a good Nepalese restaurant that I know the next time he has an afternoon off.

And then we're at my front door. I unlock it, step across the threshold, and then turn. "Please come in, Warren of the Summer Court."

The odd tension vanishes from his shoulders as he steps across the threshold. He shuts the door carefully behind us, and then turns back. "Miss Richardson...will you allow me a measure of trust?"

I frown at him. "What?"

"I want to understand you. And you will...receive a measure of understanding, in turn."

I'm sure my expression is skeptical, as I can feel my eyebrows rising. "I really don't understand right now."

He smiles at me, lifts my chin gently with one finger, and - for what I realise is the first time - meets my eyes.

I feel like I'm falling.

I'm standing on the top of a high, curved hill, with short grass beneath my bare feet. The air feels warm, but the sky above is such a dark grey that it's almost black. Still, there's somehow light enough to see the landscape around...and as I look out over it, I can see rings of earth encircling the mound, like an old hill fort. There must be six or seven, rising from the land below like a tide sweeping in and raising me up. The landscape in the distance reminds me of Faerie; it's beautiful forests, rolling countryside...but it also has a feel to it that suggests a treasured memory. It tugs at my heart so painfully that I almost reach out, wanting to touch the view - but it's inaccessible, pushed out of reach by the rings of mounds that defend this hill.

A movement by my foot makes me look down. A tiny flower is pushing through the grass, slowly; a white daisy, its petals carefully opening. Another shoot starts pushing by my jeans, wavering in the light.

There's someone sitting cross-legged on the grass behind me, and I turn. I can recognise him as Warren, although it's a younger Warren - a teenager, lanky and unsure. He's got his head bowed, and his hands clasped in his lap, as if holding something. Around him, tiny, beautiful flowers are slowly pushing their way through the grass. I get the feeling that they are going to take a long time, and be slow to grow - but they are growing, and flowering.

And then I'm falling again.

I'm back in the hallway in my house, with Warren's fingers under my chin. His eyes are green as he looks into mine. "What did you see?" he whispers.

"A hill-fort." I struggle to put it into words. "I was on a mound, with defences...but they pushed everything away. I couldn't reach the land beyond. And you...you were younger. You had flowers around you. Little ones. Growing." Then I find more of my voice. "What was that?"

"A soul-gaze."

"Did it...did you see it too?"

"No. I saw you. That was what I wanted to know." His hand is warm on my cheek. "But when one person sees, the other does too."

"You saw me? Like that? What did you see?" I almost don't want to know.

"A protector, Miss Richardson. Hurt after hurt, layered and bound into a shining sword. You were..." He hesitates, struggling in turn. "Kneeling, holding it, with your head bowed. You were in a city, surrounded by brick and tarmac and concrete, with shadows behind you."

"So what...are they?" I try to find the words. Usually I'm good at putting what I want to know into words, but that hill-top has shaken me. "Visions? Hallucinations?"

"An idea of someone's soul." Warren gives a rueful smile. "As far as we know. Magic users can do it, but most others cannot. And you must have a soul." he adds dryly.

"Tricky doesn't meet people's eyes." [Tricky's a wizard who's been helping with casefiles]

"Most magic-users do not. It reveals too much of us to others." Warren leans his head in and touches his forehead to mine. "I am sorry if this scared you."

"I don't understand." I still feel shaken. "Why did you do that?"

"It reveals a measure of truth, Miss Richardson. I needed to know you before-" He stumbles and then hesitates, the slow flush beginning to burn his cheeks.

That brings us both back to reality, and I feel a smile touch my lips as I slide my hand around the back of his neck, and pull him down into a kiss. His lips are warm, and he wraps his arms around my shoulders, drawing me into him. I'm quite happy to forget the world for the night and just stay here.

But he's strangely hesitant as the kiss deepens. After a few minutes, I pull back, and look into his eyes again. "You...aren't sure?"

"I-" He bites his lip, and looks away. "I do not want to risk hurting you."

"Physically? You won't."

"I am scared." He is still talking to the door, although his arms are still tight around my shoulders. "If I let my nature go, I do not know if I can control it again."

"You can." I put absolute certainty into my voice. "You have to."

He looks back at me, and starts to smile. "You are an astonishing person, Miss Richardson."

That gets him a Look, but then I can't help but smile back. "You don't have to be gentle with me." And I pull him down into a kiss again.

It's as if floodgates have opened. He almost flashes into passion, and things proceed a lot more satisfactorily from there.

*

Sometime in the early hours of the morning, I find myself dozing quietly in my bed with my head on Warren's shoulder, his arms around me and my legs twined into his. "I would like to repeat my previous statement," Warren's voice says sleepily in my ear, "that you are an astonishing person."

"I'm just me." I yawn. "Any particular reason?"

The room's faintly lit by the streetlights outside, and I can see him blushing even in the half-darkness. "That!"

I'm laughing, and kiss his cheek. "Although...I'm not sure how to be diplomatic with this, so I'm sorry if I offend you. You haven't had sex recently?"

"I have not in a long time." he admits, the blush deepening.

I push myself onto my elbow. "But...you said the Queen and Lady would give you anything you wanted." I hesitate as I realise. "You don't sleep with Faeries."

He's almost bright red now, but shakes his head. And then he adds, with a flash of pain and a steely determination, "I will not be him."

"Explain."

He looks at me, and then sighs, and stares at the ceiling. "The Knights are opposites, but the Winter Mantle is...more corrosive than mine. It torments. Corrupts. Destroys. The last five Winter Knights have been murderers and rapists, and this one is not a lot better."

He's silent for a while, and I'm not sure what to say.

"The Mantles exaggerate our natures. With mine, I get passion, and heat, and warmth...which I think may be the cause of my reserve, as I strive to maintain control over it. The Winter Mantle gives passion along with cold, and exaggerates the greed and the cruelty of the bearer." Then he sighs, and adds, "And the Summer Knight exists to keep the Winter Knight in check. We are opposites, but I counter him. And so my resolve on first meeting him - and upon seeing what the Mantle does - was to never sink to his depths."

"And so you don't sleep with Fae."

"They are subject to the whims of those more powerful, or to their natures." He turns his head, and runs a finger down my jaw with a smile. "You are mortal. You have free will."

"That was why you were worried. About control." I've finally twigged. "It's the Mantle."

"I was concerned that if I allowed the Mantle some freedom, I would not be able to restrain it again."

"Did you?"

He nods. "You are wise. I must, and so I did."

I hide a yawn in his shoulder, and then settle down again into his arms. He smells of fresh rain. "I'm just me."

He settles his cheek against my hair, and I feel his arms relax as his breathing slows. And then I have slipped into sleep.

*

I usually wake early, and dawn in the winter months is fairly late. But I'm still half asleep when I feel the lightest of kisses on my cheek, and Warren's voice whispers, "Thank you, Dini."

But as I force my eyes to open, there's just thecooling warmth of the bed beside me, the scent of rain and thunder for thebriefest of moments, and a scattering of fresh green leaves across my bedroomfloor.


	2. Ice-Cream and Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After something akin to a date with the Summer Knight, life's returned to normal...until a messenger arrives at the front door, and Dini decides on a rather unusual payment method.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some time later...I can't remember where this came in the casefiles but it was likely one or two after the previous episode, so maybe three weeks? There were also some in-game reasons for the additions here; it gave Dini some nice bonuses in play!

It's late on Wednesday afternoon. In the true tradition of the edge-of-your-seat, dramatic life of a journalist in Swindon, I'm curled up on my sofa, typing up a report for my editor. It's not even a very interesting report – she bullied me into taking on one of my colleague's projects, and it doesn't even involve magic or a murder: someone's cat went missing, and their next-door neighbour had shut it in their garage. The police would like to remind everyone to be extra vigilant when locking their outbuildings. I'm debating sending it to Everyman as a reminder of what his life used to be like before the SSID. [Everyman's a grumpy policeman and the sole member of the Swindon Special Investigations Department - basically everything weird that no one else knows how to deal with.]

There's a knock on my front door, and I glance up. I keep a camera there - let's just say I'm paranoid and leave it at that - but there's nothing showing on it, just the damp street. So I haul myself off the sofa and tread lightly down the hallway. There's nothing showing through the peephole either, so I check the letterbox and then crack the door open.

Something comes zooming towards me so fast that I flinch backwards, but it's stopped outside the door. "Envoy!" a piping voice says. "I have a message for you!"

It's a tiny Faerie. I make my voice work, say, "One moment-" and shut the door. As I slip the chain off I wonder if I'm doing something stupid, but open the door again anyway.

The tiny Faerie hovering at chest height in my doorway looks like Tinkerbell from the Disney film, except...well, harsher. I've seen the Little Folk before, but never met one this close. He's wearing armour, and has a lethal-looking skewer of a sword hanging by his side, as well as something folded under the other arm. His hair is a shock of white that frames his head, and the tiny wings are beating so fast that I can barely see them.

"I have a message for you!" the Faerie declares, and thrusts the folded thing at me.

"Thank you." I take it gingerly. "Um. Do you need an answer?"

He nods. "I must wait for you!"

I hesitate, and then say, "Would you like to come in? I think I have some ice cream in the freezer."

The Faerie's eyes widen and his wingbeats slow, and for a moment I wonder if I've committed some horrible fault. But then his wingbeats speed up – and if anything, get faster. "You have ice cream, Envoy?" he squeaks.

"Yes. Um...what's your name?"

"I am Davido!"

"Then I invite you into my home, Davido."

The tiny Faerie shoots across the threshold as I open the door, and hovers in the hallway, looking around with interest as I shut the door behind us. The note is still in my hand, but that has to wait. I have a Guest.

I head for the kitchen, leaving the note on the side, and open the freezer. Luckily I do still have some of Tony's Limoncello and a new pot of Tiramasu, and I pull both of them out. The tiny Faerie has landed on the counter behind me, and watches with interest as I put the pots next to him and take the lids off, then find a teaspoon in the drawer.

"Here, this might help." I say, handing it over. It's slightly longer than his sword, but he seems to be able to handle it. "That one's lemon, and that one's coffee and cream."

Then I go to fill the kettle and make myself a cup of tea. Davido has already attacked the ice cream by the time I've filled the kettle and flicked it on, and I lean against the counter and watch with amusement as he shoves the spoon into the Limoncello and manages to get out a moon-shaped round. Luckily it melts fairly fast, and so I was confident that it'd be easier in a few minutes. And by the time I've made my tea, he's getting whole teaspoonfuls.

I sit down at the counter with my steaming mug, and unfold the note. It's inscribed in beautiful copperplate script, and smells of clover and sunshine.

Miss Richardson,

May I request the pleasure of your company this evening or on the morrow? I am shortly to be travelling, and I desire to see you before I leave.

Warren

"Davido," I say thoughtfully, "can you get a message to the Summer Knight?"

The tiny Faerie stops with a spoonful of melting Tiramasu on his spoon. "Yes, Envoy!"

"Can you take a verbal answer, or do you want a written one?"

He puffs his chest. "I can take anything! I am a good messenger!"

"Can you take an answer to him now?" Davido's look of longing at the ice cream is so acute that I almost laugh. "You can come straight back and finish the ice cream. You are still my guest."

Davido sticks the spoon back into the pot. "Yes, Envoy! You have given me Ice Cream, so I can do this for you."

I smile, and say, "Please tell the Summer Knight that I am available this evening, if he would like to visit me here."

Davido flashes off so fast that I can't follow, heading for the hallway. I don't know if he went out of the letterbox or got to Faerie another way. I take the spoon out of the Limoncello and put both pots back in the freezer, and then go back to work.

*

An hour later, there's another knock on my front door, and I leave my work and walk down the hall to answer it. I keep the chain on for a moment, and peer out of the spyhole. It's a tall man in a green jumper and brown jacket, with what looks like Davido on his shoulder. Warren is standing there when I open the door, and it is Davido. They're both surprisingly dry for the amount of rain coming down.

Warren smiles at me, his green eyes warm. "Miss Richardson. My messenger informs me that you invited him back for ice cream?"

I smile back, and stand aside. "I did. Davido, Warren of the Summer Court, please come in."

Some of the tension goes out of Warren's shoulders, and he steps through the doorway. Davido's already gone off his shoulder and as I shut the front door behind the tall Knight, I hear a shrill cry from the kitchen. "It's gone!"

"I put it back in the freezer, Davido!" I call as I head back down the hallway, beckoning Warren to follow. "Otherwise it melts and it's not as nice."

"Oh, like our treasure at Lydiard." Davido says. He's standing on the worktop, clutching the spoon.

"It has to be kept frozen when you're not eating it." I pull the two pots out again and put them in front of him. Then I turn to the Summer Knight, who is standing in the kitchen doorway and watching the Faerie attack the ice cream with a faint smile. "Can I offer you tea? Or dinner?"

He considers it. "Dinner would be pleasant, Miss Richardson, if you are willing. I have not eaten yet today."

I find the takeaway menu for the Nepalese that I promised from our first date, and he studies it while I fill the kettle and flick it on. But when I turn back, he has a rueful smile on his face, and pushes it back towards me. "I am unfamiliar with most of this. Would you be so kind to suggest what I might like?"

"I'll order for both of us."

Davido's still determinedly working through the ice cream as I ring the order through and ask for delivery. "It'll be about half an hour." I tell Warren as I put the phone down.

He nods. "I thank you, Miss Richardson."

"So where are you travelling-" and then I stop myself. "Work talk, sorry."

"I am happy to discuss it, Miss Richardson, if you will tell me about your last case."

I shrug. "I'm working on tracing missing or kidnapped people with odd narcotic in their blood-" and then I stop. When I put it like that, it sounds suspiciously like the Red Court. But why are they going after those specific people?

Some prodding from Warren gets me to share the details, but he doesn't have the background to know the names. I explain as much as I can, but end up just saying, "It's something I'm following as an ongoing thing. It's just...odd. I need to lean on Everyman to see if he can get me some of the hospital records as the next step." Then I lean my elbows on the counter and smile at the man opposite me. "Your turn."

"I am being sent to America." Warren says, also leaning his elbows on the counter. "My Queen wishes me to visit many of the White Council Wardens and Summer representatives, as there is currently unrest between many of the factions...and we will need them united for-"

I catch the hesitation. "Something's going to happen?"

"There is...something coming." the Summer Knight says slowly. "Trouble."

I shrug. "Well, it's unlikely to come to Swindon." [Spoiler: it did (in-game). We mostly whomped it.]

"The centers of power are in unlikely places, Miss Richardson. I hope that trouble will not arrive here, but we cannot be certain."

"Anything we can do?"

That gets a rueful smile. "Not that I can see."

While we've talked, Davido's gone through the remains of the Limoncello and now almost rolls backwards, clutching his tiny round belly with one arm and still holding the spoon with the other. I carefully take it from his hand, and Warren extends a finger to gently poke the tiny man.

"Davido? Are you content?"

"I have eaten Ice Cream!" Davido says, grinning hugely, and then yawns. I turn to put the spoon in the sink and when I turn back, he's fast asleep.

"I think you have stolen my messenger, Miss Richardson." the Summer Knight says to me with some bemusement, still looking at his sleeping companion.

"I didn't mean to."

He smiles up at me. "You may find that Davido is willing to go to the ends of the Earth for you now."

"I'm not sure I need a Faerie messenger." I say with a frown as I put the remaining Tiramasu away again.

Warren shrugs slightly. "I have found that need and get are not necessarily connected in Faerie. He told me that he wishes to be your protector."

"What does that entail?" I shut the freezer door and come back to the stool.

Warren smiles. "He would be at your command when you requested it, Dini Richardson. He is an excellent messenger and a stalwart fighter. You would need to keep giving him ice cream, and he will be devoted to you."

"Would he be around...all the time?" I ask, thinking of the reaction of most of the people I meet.

"Not if you did not wish him to be. He is good at glamours. He is usually with me," Warren adds, "and is used to protecting me. I would be honoured for him to serve you."

"I didn't intend-"

The Summer Knight's face stills. "Miss Richardson, he requested this. I beg that you accept. You will insult him if you refuse."

I sigh. More complications... "All right. When are you expected back?" I add.

"I am not. My Lady knows where I am if she wishes to find me."

"She can enter-"

"There is no force on earth that can stop Summer, Miss Richardson." the Summer Knight says gently. "And the Queen is the full embodiment of that. My Lady is almost as powerful, and because I am bound to Summer, she can find me wherever I am. It is part of who I am, now." He pauses, and then adds, "The power that I bear makes up for some of the restriction." I wonder if he can read my mind. "And the Summer Court is one of gentle pleasure. Although I regret losing my mortal life, I am content in my current one."

But I'm remembering the teenager sitting on his lonely hilltop, ringed by defences that are so strong it makes him a prisoner in isolation, unable to reach his past or his present. So what are the flowers?

"You." Warren says simply when I ask.

I blink. "What?"

"I have not felt affection for many years; I have not allowed myself companionship. And then you walked into the Court. The flowers are slowly growing."

"That scares me." I admit.

We're interrupted by the doorbell, and I go to get the takeaway. When I get back, Warren's found cutlery from a drawer, and is just getting plates from the cupboard. I lay the steaming boxes out on the counter around the sleeping Davido, and talk Warren through the food.

"So are soul-gazes your idea of yourself?" I ask as we dig in.

"I believe so. It is obviously tempered through another's gaze, and I understand that they can be different each time. You were in a courtyard." he adds thoughtfully. "There were brick walls around, concrete and tarmac under your feet. You are at home in the city?"

I shrug. "Born and bred here."

"Your soul is harsh." Warren says after a moment.

"Hurt after hurt, layered into a sword...that sounds about right." My voice is somehow very detached. "I don't want anyone else to be hurt."

"And the shadows?"

"I don't know. Ghosts, maybe."

"You said you hadn't killed." His voice is suddenly harsh.

I look up slowly. "How do you define it? Have I struck a blow that killed someone? No. But I've stood there as others got killed. I've given information that's seen people die. I've begged for one person's death, just to stop the pain. But I've never killed. Not yet."

He nods thoughtfully, but then digs into the food again, and we find more light-hearted things to talk about.

He helps me wash up, and then spends half an hour trying to choose a film. I end up picking a James Bond – he's woefully behind on 007 – and then he goes for The Avengers. I haven't spent an evening curled up on a sofa with someone for several years, and I'm starting to feel paranoid at how comfortable I am.

"What do you normally do in the evenings at the Court?" I ask Warren as the Hulk smashes an alien with another alien.

"I am mostly left to my own devices." he says thoughtfully. "There are activities...many of my companions craft, or dance, or design. The Summer Court is beautiful and creative. But I admit I do not have much talent for anything beyond music. I read, and sing, and walk." His face lights up in a smile. "I enjoy travelling, and I often walk the Ways. The little ones," and he glances at Davido's sleeping form, "are very good at navigating them, although they are easily distracted."

The Avengers save the world as usual, although we miss the end of the film...which was mostly my fault. I get the impression that he isn't used to people kissing him - although he doesn't object at all; he just looks a bit surprised every time. It makes me laugh in between the kisses, until he entirely distracts me.

*

I get him for the night again, and this time he does stay around for the morning. I find out that he doesn't drink coffee - apparently the Fae aren't too keen on it - but likes pancakes. We spend an hour laughing and making a thorough mess of my kitchen as I try to learn how to make them, and then I mostly fail at flipping them - although that was possibly Davido's fault. The tiny Faerie seems to consider anything flying a threat, and a number of my pancakes ended up with sword-holes through them until I admitted laughing defeat and handed the pan over to Warren. The subsequent scene of the Summer Knight flipping pancakes and a small flying Faerie dodging through them and shouting defiance as they whizz past his head makes me laugh until I cry.

Davido manages his body-weight in pancakes while Warren and I go through a rather more sedate plateful each, and then the Summer Knight leans over the counter to kiss me. "I must leave, I am afraid."

"Thank you for staying." I say.

The flush begins to creep up his cheeks, but he smiles at me. "It was indeed my pleasure."

I know I have a dirty laugh at times, but I manage to make Warren go crimson with it, despite the grin he can't hide. "Not just yours!"

He's still grinning as he kisses my cheek, but then sobers. "I enjoy your company, Miss Richardson, although I admit that my circumstances are not the best. Does it suit you to see me when I can be spared, and take no offence at any company I may keep otherwise?"

"You can't have a normal human relationship," I translate. "All right, as long as you're not going to take offence at me."

"I hold you to no moral standards but your own."

I snort. "Fuck-buddies, then?"

"What is a buddy?" he asks, puzzled, and then gives me a faint, mischevious smile. "Fuck, I know."

I'm just trying to work out how to explain hook-up culture to someone who's lived with Faeries for a hundred years when I see the corners of his mouth twitching, and realise he's teasing me. I can't help but smile back. "I'd like to see you when you get back, if you have the time."

"Then I will contact you on my return." He enfolds me, resting his cheek on my hair, and we stay like that for a minute, just enjoying the moment. I'm just wrapped in his arms, smelling the clover and sunshine of his skin; it's peaceful, and safe, and the rest of the world feels a long way away. But I know it has to end.

As Warren lets me go, Davido shoots down and hovers in front of me. "Ice Cream Lady! May I serve you? I would be your protector while the Summer Knight is gone!"

They're both looking at me, waiting for an answer. I try to think, but all I can really come up with is how surreal this moment is... "All right. I'll give you ice cream, and you protect me?"

"And I am a good messenger!" Davido beams, and lands on Warren's shoulder. "I will accompany you back to the Court, Summer Knight, and then return to the Ice Cream Lady." The tiny Faerie settles down on Warren's shoulder, his feet hanging down on the Knight's chest and one hand on Warren's collar.

I escort the Summer Knight and his tiny companion to the door, and see them out. Warren bows his head to me as he steps out, and then they are walking off down the road. A few steps later, they've vanished, and the road's empty.

I stand at the doorway for a moment, and then step back in, shut the door, and lean my head on the cold surface.

I can't stop smiling.

I just spent an entire evening, night and morning with someone whose company I enjoyed, who is extremely nice, and who is rather good in bed.

I wasn't uncomfortable; I wasn't on edge; I wasn't wanting my own space.

I want to see him again. And keep seeing him.

And he's the Summer Knight of the Faerie Court.

Well. Fuck.


End file.
